Thinking a lot about storytelling and reading aloud as a way to connect with my ancestors.
After attending a weekend with some very lovely ladies, I began to consider that storytelling may be important for those you know very well. While we may not ever run out of things to talk about, if we meet with increasing frequency, we may tire of talking about ourselves.
I used to read aloud in the car when we (my husband and I) traveled with my cat. The sound of an enthusiastic voice, even reading something mundane, always made him sound a lot less miserable. Early than that, before I got sick the first time, my husband-then-boyfriend and I began reading the Narnia books to each other, beginning with The Magicians Nephew.
I’m not completely sure why we stopped, but I’d like to pick it up again. I’d also love to talk about something beyond what I did with my day and what we plan to do with our weekend. It’s not that I don’t love those quiet moments, the ritual of sharing the parts of our lives we live away from each other, but I want more.
I want to bring back storytelling. I want to bring back reading aloud. I feel that we’re on the verge of leaving that “around the fire” practice for good, and it makes me feel far away from my past.
(Painting by Albert Moore, “Reading Aloud”)